Untitled, For The Sake Of Humanity!
by Hedo
Summary: THEY DON'T GIVE ME A CATEGORY. So I put it in Mythology. My only explanation for that is that Dr. Steel stole technology from the gods and used it to create robots. He was poked by one of those water-drinking-bird toys until he went insane. Oh and MPREG :


**Title**: Untitled...for the sake of humanity.

**Author:** ...me.

**Characters**: Dr. Steel...and...robots.

**Summary:** this is self-explanatory...I mean, it's me we're talking about here..

**Age Group**: Er...well...Toy Soldiers, I guess.

**Warnings:** Um...mpreg...? =\

**Author's notes**: Well, hey, you kids at TSU asked for non-erotic fanfiction!

Finally. The new addition to his chemical arsenal: a serum that would do...um...

...Well, it was going to do _something._

Ahh, yes. He remembered now. It was supposed to make even the most overdone cupcakes taste fantastic.

Now, Dr. Steel may have been insane. But he wasn't a fool. There was no way on earth he was testing this serum on himself.

Not before trying it on Hamster 1,629.3, of course!

He watched in utter delight as the hamster voraciously devoured every last crumb laid before him. Surely, this was going to be successful. He made quick work of decorating the cupcakes with pink icing and rainbow sprinkles (because as we all know, that is the only way to properly decorate a cupcake) and took a tentative first bite...

A wave of overwhelmingly wonderful sugary ecstasy flooded his taste buds. Without even taking a second glance to see if there were any more unpleasant side effects for the hamster, he wolfed down every last one at an alarming rate and sighed contentedly.

"Well, Hamster 1,629.3, we've made a real breakthrough!" He said cheerfully as he hung up his labcoat and headed upstairs.

Over the next few months he noticed very bizarre things happening to Hamster 1,629.3...In fact, one morning, he walked into the lab to discover that there were not _one_, but _nine_ hamsters in the cage.

He shook his head. Surely, he thought, he must be dreaming. After all, mere moments ago he was being mentally tormented by LuLu. He counted the Hamsters again.

Still nine.

That's nine times more than one. And that's horrible.

"My goodness," he muttered. "Hamster 1,629.3, you've _proliferated_!"

The hamster squeaked weakly in reply.

Dr. Steel paused to ponder the implications of this discovery, until the timer on the oven went off.

These cupcakes were becoming addicting...

A few more weeks later, after many of the 9 hamsters disappeared, (Hamster 1,629.3 included, sadly), certain _changes_ had started happening. Very unpleasant ones:

Every morning, instead of waking up in his comfortable bed after a good night's sleep, donning his goggles and going down to breakfast, he would find himself curled up on the bathroom floor, on the verge of puking. Cartoons had become _irritating_, of all things. The robots...well, the robots weren't exactly the most functional things in the first place, but now Dr. Steel was losing his patience with them much more quickly.

He couldn't continue his existence like this. His priority this morning (after the new and unpleasant morning ritual, of course) was to do research on these symptoms and put the finishing touches on the speech programming of the newest robot.

"No, no..." he muttered, flipping through the pages. "It's not the flu..." He twisted a wire as he read the symptoms on the new page. "This seems to fi..." His grip on the wrench loosened and he stepped away from the robot as he stared intently at the page, seemingly horrified.

"My God..." he breathed. "I think I'm..._pregnant_."

The robot sparked suddenly.

"Daadaaaaaaaaaaa..."

He looked up from the book to the robot and glared for a second...

And then gave the robot a hard kick in its metal shins, toppling it over and knocking out part of the speech circuits.

"The robots don't need to talk, anyway..." he muttered as he walked back out of the lab.

Back up in his room, he was pacing, practically on the verge of an existential crisis. He was contributing to the overpopulation problem if he went through with this...but he couldn't very well waste his time running off to the mainland to..._do away with it._ And he certainly couldn't waste his time feeling all this stress over the matter. His stomach wouldn't stop churning. There was no way that was healthy.

He stopped. The churning sensation didn't go away.

Perhaps that wasn't his internal organs doing flip-flops...

"My gosh," he cast an awkward glance at his bedroom mirror, as if he felt like it was watching him, despite the fact that he was the only one in his room, _ever_. "I think it's..._kicking_."

These were going to be a very, _very_ long next two-hundred and twenty-two months...


End file.
